Teaching

Now, I moved for all the right reasons – love, a need for a life, a quieter pace. While I do have that, and a healthy work life balance, I’m still working a lot. I haven’t been vocal on the company page, EE Twitter or my personal Facebook (happily deleted) – it’s been absolute bliss following my little EE heart, experimenting with the things I couldn’t afford to experiment with in NYC. This makes for a busy schedule with ideas that get the follow through they deserve.

The Outdoor Gang goes on an adventure

This summer I had the pleasure of co-teaching and co-creating an Art through Improv Camp with the Southeastern Center for Contemporary Art. Full disclosure – I got to do all of this with my husband, Alex, who is the Programs Coordinator at SECCA, so it was pretty awesome right there. But it was the first time in a long time that I got to create a public museum program with improv where it wasn’t my job to focus on the art-making and gallery component. Improv was an equal component as a way ‘in’ to the exhibition. For the first time in my little museum educator turned improv educator turned business owner and educator heart, I got to run with ideas.

The entire week was one success after another. I think it can best be described from the difference on the first day and last day: SECCA’s awesome Executive Director Gordon Peterson came down on the first day to say hi to the campers, and they looked at him like…well like he was a fancy guy in a suit. These kids were QUIET. And SHY. SILENT might be the best word. They basically uncomfortably stared at him until he stopped talking and left.

I think at this moment Alex got nervous that we (I) were (WAS) crazy.

We started in the gallery with Keith Haring and created our very own Pop Shop Prints, which were available to the public. In the afternoon, we focused on repetition within improv, to echo our repetition within printmaking.

Zip Zap Zop was like pulling teeth.

Gallery Talks

Slow, scared, and just a general ‘nope’ attitude. But slowly, I saw the kids taking little risks, even on that first afternoon. Being a bit louder onstage. Slowly taking the lead and initiative in scene work. By the end of the day, we played Hot Spot – and a few kids balked at it. For those of you who haven’t experienced my ‘way’ of playing – one person stands in the center of a circle and starts singing a song. When the people on the outside of the circle know the song, they start to sing along, backing that center person up. The moment someone on the outer circle thinks of a new song in relation to the song that’s currently being sung, they tap the center person, take their place and start the new song. Up to this point – that’s how Hot Spot is traditionally played. It’s a pretty standard improv game. You don’t want someone to ‘die’ in the center; you always want everyone to look out for each other.

I make everyone go.

The kids take the stage!

Yep, everyone has to sing. And you can’t get out of it – because as I tell students, kids and adults, I will wait. Before people start thinking that I’m some kind of crazy horrible person that makes people sing in public spaces in front of strangers for fun, here’s the thing: chances are, singing in public in front of strangers with no backup music to hide in will most likely be the scariest thing most people do that week. Sometimes even that month. I’ve heard people say it was the scariest thing they do all year. People fear public speaking more than death – singing? Forget it.

But think about it – you do this and the world DOESN’T end. You don’t die. You get nervous, people have your back because they are also scared shitless and you all win. And the kids behaved JUST like adults do – fear, trepidation, nerves. Kids saying, “Not doing it.” Me saying, “Too bad, do it.” And as usual, they nailed it, went home and I collapsed, exhausted but believing in this crazy idea that improv really does magic.

Fast-forward to the next day when the kids asked to do more improv than art, and ASKED to play Hot Spot again. I asked the girl – the same one who had the most trepidation around the game – why she wanted to play it today. And she said, “I was scared yesterday, but I did it and it was fun and worth being scared. I learned a lot.” (Kid, please remember this in life and tell it to all of our clients and potential clients.)

Indoor Art-making Fun

Fast-forward to the third day of camp when they asked to do improv first, before art. Improv at 9 am is not for the faint of heart, but this crew nailed a group scene with 9 people onstage at once, all sharing the focus and on the same page, with a scene that gave me goose bumps because it was so fluid, so focused and so good – this after practicing sharing focus in relation to composition within art.

Fast-forward to the fourth day, where they decided they wanted their parents to play improv games in the final culmination. Also, we were working on wrapping up some art projects in the afternoon, and Gordon’s wife Nancy came by to see camp. Since we were doing art, I asked a few students if they wanted to do a quick improv game to show Nancy what they’ve been working on. Three girls jumped up, killed it and walked off like no big deal. Shyness around random adults? Gone.

Fast-forward to the last day when they led their parents through the galleries, showed them their favorite art, taught them printmaking, and performed a 30 minute improv show better than 75% of my ex-improv team performances, complete with a parent segment. Afterwards, the parents that were onstage said they had a new respect for thinking on the fly (YES AND) and to what their kids did so seamlessly (YES AND). Oh and the first day awkward visit from SECCA’s Director? Gordon came back on the last day, and the kids were completely comfortable around him, grabbing snacks and walking around like they owned the place. Casually saying hi like it was nothing at all. Same shy, silent, scared kids + 5 days of improv.

That progression from a group of nervous kids to an ensemble who exhibited more comfort and confidence in a contemporary art museum than I’ve seen in a lot of adults – that’s why I do what I do. EE came out of me noticing that museum professionals, specifically educators, didn’t follow the visitor enough. Agendas surpassed interest – whether those agendas were museum orientated or personal or both – and I’ve seen too many programs that were curator-lite, focused more on academics and content regardless of the audience. And that’s lazy museum education behavior.

But this program – we planned, but were ready to be flexible. Maybe it was because I co-taught with my husband, who has seen the incredible power of improv and focusing on your audience instead of going through the motions, but we were open, ready and able to follow the group. They wanted to do improv first, great, done. They wanted to take the structural elements of sculpture and architecture we taught them and make a sword out of paper, awesome. They’ve always wanted to paint a tornado in a field? Great, here’s a canvas and you’re still using color theory, which you didn’t know before, so paint whatever you’d like. That openness by US allowed them to be completely free.

As long as this post is at this point, the entire week can be summed up by one conversation with a boy named Oliver. He was pretty quiet, strong instincts onstage, and liked art. One of the first things he said on the first day during art making was “You mean we can make whatever we want?” and when Alex and I said, “Yes, of course!” (Initiative! Choice! Improv LIFE principles in disguise!) he replied with the widest eyes and literally rushed back to his seat to create TONS, and I mean TONS of prints. He played with ghost prints, multiples, layers of ink – all of the techniques we had talked about. There wasn’t a wrong, or a failure – he just got to explore. He went on to say it was nice to not just recreate someone else’s work – and while I’m sure my NYC friends/readers are commenting “Oh it’s because his art class isn’t like [insert snark here about NYC].” Guess what? He goes to literally THE most progressive and advanced school I’ve ever set foot in. It’s an incredible school and he STILL felt like he didn’t have the freedom to create something that was truly his. So there’s that.

Oliver – you’re doing EXACTLY what I’m doing here in Winston. I’m creating something that is truly mine. I’m doing fantastic collaborations – real creations of new projects, not just partnering or pushing my own agenda. I’m taking the community around me and teaming up with some awesome and incredible people and MAKING THINGS HAPPEN. Remember this article I wrote almost a year ago?

For many of us, repeating anything is a form of low-level torture. We spend our lives both personally and professionally convinced that we should “get it right the first time.” We think that if we just move slowly enough, plan meticulously enough, and forecast appropriately then we can nail it and never have to worry about it again. Sometimes that works, but sometimes the only surefire way to learn anything, and even more so to learn how to do anything well, is by doing it again.

Here’s what I mean: It is only in the continuous doing of anything that we really grow in our competence of it. It is in our repetition that we transform what we do well into what we do best.

As the fable goes, a pottery professor divided his class in half. To the left side, he said, “you will be graded on the quantity of work you produce” and to the right side he announced, “you will be graded on the quality of the work you produce.” Fast forward to final projects eight weeks later and the students with the highest quality pots were those whose grades were dependent upon the quantity of pots produced.

Even if this story isn’t true, it is important. In its outcome, it speaks to repetition as a means of learning, and also as the root of excellence. It also begs the question: why do we so commonly position quality and quantity as counterparts instead of complementary pieces?
When I started taking improv, my fellow improvers and I would look to Jen as the guru. We just knew that no matter what scene she was in or what word she was thrown, she was always going to ace it. In our minds, she knew everything. But when Jen overheard us all aspiring to be an improv master like she was, she said, “You guys know there’s no such thing as an improv master, right?” In that moment and in that question, she wasn’t negating the fact that she had decades of improv experience. She was highlighting the fact that while continuing improv would undoubtedly strengthen our skills, there would never be a point where we were so perfect that we never had anything left to learn. Even as we became more confident and quick thinking, there would always be a reason to keep going because there is always room for improvement.

Both taking and teaching improv have been powerful tools for my personal and professional growth. I no longer think of learning in terms of completion but as a process along a continuum – I know that every time I take an improv course or teach a class, my desire for improvement (strengthening old skills and learning new ones) is what will push me toward a level of quality and excellence. As Bruce Lee famously said “I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times.” It is in the practice, the repetition, and the continuous doing that quantity and quality converge.

I’m standing in front of an audience of fifty people and I can feel that it’s happening. My face is starting to get hot. In a few minutes, my entire face and neck will be covered in blotchy hives. A few minutes after that, the hives will turn tomato red. Clown face red. Strawberry Shortcake red.

And I’m not even halfway through my speech.

Before I address my red face, let me start out by saying that I love public speaking. In fact, love is an understatement. I passionately, obsessively think of words as my gift. I’ve given 100’s of speeches to varying sizes of audiences. Despite all of this, I still occasionally turn red when I speak. Not always. Not often. But it happens. Enough that I decided to write about it.

When I started working professionally as a communication coach, I would occasionally find myself in front of the classroom starting to get blotchy. I was young and new in the field and frequently in front of professionals twice my age. So here I am, a younger professional teaching presentation/speaking skills with cheeks flushed rosy red. I was worried it would diminish my credibility. I was terrified that people would see my face turn red and think, “What can she possibly teach me about speaking? Her redness is a sign of insecurity.”

I became obsessed.

I scoured the internet for remedies for my red face. I downloaded videos and bought vitamins. I changed my diet in case I had some sort of food allergy. I practiced intense breathing methods and developed thorough routines. While some of these things helped, they also reinforced the internal agreement I had made with myself that this was a serious problem.

The more I obsessed about it, the worse it became. It was the only thing I could think about. For the first-time in my life, I started having full-on panic attacks while speaking or teaching. My entire attention would focus on my face turning red and my body would enter “fight or flight” mode. Blood rushing to my ears. Heart racing. Numb fingers. This is what happens when our brains start to freak out and our bodies have a real and intense reaction to our perceived danger.

I had to do something.

This was stealing the joy from something I loved. Something I had been doing for years. Giving up speaking was not an option. (It should never be an option. You have important ideas, your fear of speaking should NEVER prevent you from sharing them).

The turning point came after I watched this Youtube video with a man named Dr. Barry.

It turned out, the secret to ending panic attacks, was to do nothing. To elaborate, fight or flight mode occurs when our bodies think we are in danger. The more you feed the anxiety, the more it grows. The more I obsessed about my red face, the more symptoms I started having.

According to Dr. Barry, “Symptoms of anxiety are uncomfortable but not dangerous… Once you learn to accept that this is uncomfortable but not dangerous you will think… why am I letting something that is just uncomfortable take over my life…you begin to normalize the symptoms of anxiety. The second you normalize the symptoms, you’ve won the battle…and panic attacks will disappear from your life.”

I watched this video three times before putting it in action.

I was in front of a 14 professionals when I felt my face start turning red. Breathe. “This is uncomfortable but it isn’t dangerous,” I repeated to myself mentally. “I am not going to feed this fire.” After about five minutes, my face returned to normal.

I did this two more times after that initial occasion. I haven’t had a panic attack since then. It sounds simple. Truthfully, it was THAT simple. Definitely simpler than obsessing, fretting, and worrying.

Does my face still turn red while speaking? Yes. Sometimes it does. Sometimes it goes away. Sometimes it remains. But I don’t obsess about it. I talk through it. I voice my opinions clearly in meetings or with friends. I use my words to motivate, inspire, and make people laugh. Most importantly, I keep speaking. I keep looking for opportunities to speak even though I know it might happen. I have something to say and I refuse to let my fear steal that from me.

So, if you’re afraid to speak because you think you might have a physical reaction. Sweatiness. Or shallow breathing. Or Red face or dry mouth or whatever. Speak anyway. It’s as simple as that. Open your mouth and speak. Learn to breathe. Hydrate yourself. But start by opening your mouth and saying something.

Your body may react. It may not. And if it does, remind yourself that you are not in danger despite uncomfortable symptoms. That you have important things to say.

Social stories were created in 1991 by Carol Gray to help teach social skills to people with autism. They are short, concise and specific descriptions of events and activities that include information about what to expect in a given situation.

Through a Pre Visit Pilot Program, SECCA and The Engaging Educator visited ABC to familiarize the students with what they would see and do on the museum visit. Through photos of the building and art, modeling a ‘museum walk’ and touch objects that would be present at the museum, students learned about expectations for the visit. ABC then printed copies of the social story for teachers to continue to go over in class, as well as hand held versions for the trip itself.

Reflections from Jen: “I think the biggest success is the level of comfort achieved in the students in a contemporary art museum. While SECCA is a welcoming space, many museums have a “be quiet and admire the art” reverence. Through our previsits as well as the visits, Alex and I have seen a marked change in the students, both with their comfort with us as well as the museum. From initial outward anxiety in the kids to several of them finding connections in their every day lives, their comfort around art and in the museum was fast and marked. Through showing objects that were touch friendly to practicing a “Museum Walk” and doing multi-model engagement strategies to view the art (ex: moving like butterflies, posing like sea creatures, imagining textures) the students successfully had visits that helped them understand how to interact with art in the museum in a safe way, and established SECCA as a place they could be comfortable (and be themselves) in. Examples: Harry connecting with an Untitled work by Sterling Allen containing a slide projector, likening it to Veggie Tales, Andrew asking to go back into the galleries and walk around after lunch, Connor showing Jen the changes of weather on the iPads, Cleo showing Jen and Alex her book in the Overlook Gallery.”

April is Autism Awareness & Acceptance Month. We are thrilled to bring you this special reflection from Engager Jill Frutkin.

When I teach Improv, I say these four words over and over: Listening, Responding, Specificity, Commitment.

I tell my students not to worry about being funny, or being a great performer- as long as you are listening, responding, and being specific and committed in your communication, you’re doing it right.

Improvisation is by definition unscripted. No one knows what is going to happen next. In order to communicate, we need to listen. Full listening happens not only with our ears, but with our eyes, our hearts, and our entire bodies. When we are really listening, we’re taking in more than just words. We are listening to how someone feels. We look at their eyes, we read their body language, and we listen to their facial expressions.

As we listen, we respond. If we have honestly listened, we can respond honestly. In Improv, sometimes response makes us laugh. This laughter doesn’t come from a clever or calculated place, it comes instead from honesty. The best laughs I’ve had in an Improv class are from responses that in theory should not have been funny, but because they came from honest listening, they were joyfully hilarious in their humanity.

Sometimes a response doesn’t make us laugh: it makes us think. An honest response says a lot about a person and the way they think and feel about the world. When two people are honestly listening and responding, a productive conversation is happening.

In EE Improv classes for Professionals, we look at communication through the lens of how it can help us in our adult lives. How can honest listening and responding make a meeting more productive? How can it further a collaboration? How does full body listening improve the way you pitch to a client? We’re adults who have been communicating for years, but we all have ways we can improve.

For the past four years, I worked as a Special Education teacher. I taught 6:1:1 self- contained classrooms for young students diagnosed with autism. In addition to ABCs and 123s, I worked with students on improving crucial communication skills and emotional literacy.

The saying goes: You’ve met one person with autism means you’ve met one person with autism. My students were diverse learners: I had non verbal students who could read above grade level, verbal students with sensory processing needs, students who never spoke but would sing when music was played.

My students taught me a lot about communication.

You can let someone know what you’re feeling without saying a word.
You can listen without using your ears.

I learned to listen to my students’ body language. I listened to their words, and the individual ways they used their words. I listened to the sounds they used to communicate, and to their facial expressions. I listened to them as individual people communicating and responding in individual ways. The more I listened, the more I knew them. The more I knew them, the better I could design learning activities they could access and be successful in.

The more I teach students of all ages and learning styles, the more I realize that the truths of listening and responding are the same for all. As teachers and learners and people, we can all improve the ways we listen and respond, and in doing so we further communication and increase in productivity towards our goals.

Improv is truly a team sport. If you’ve been lucky enough to witness the magic of two or more people affirming, contributing and creating a story together, then you know what I mean. In those moments it’s clear to me that the sum of all parts (or people) is more powerful than a singular person – and that is the purpose of teamwork. Or is it?

Often when we work in teams, our goal is simply to finish an assignment. Whether a presentation or new project, we approach teamwork as a tool to complete a task faster, not to take the task further. This is why, in groups, many of us quietly mumble a quiet prayer about having the option of working alone. With our hectic schedules, deadlines and endless to-do-lists we’ve forgotten that the purpose of teamwork isn’t an exercise for completion, but collaboration… and that means achieving something bigger, better, and more valuable than what we would have been able to create by ourselves. (Don’t believe me, see inspirational quotes below.)

“Unity is strength…. When there is teamwork and collaboration wonderful things can be achieved.” – Mattie J.P Stepanek

Because in improv we seldom know exactly where the scene is going, as players we focus more on what is possible than what is practical. If we agree that the purpose of working on a team is not just completing or creating, but creating bigger and completing more than what we can do alone, then we have to push past one of our favorite adult habits: realism.

While being realistic works when talking about the economy and predicting outcomes, practicing realism as an adult easily becomes an intuitive mechanism for limitation. We become so enveloped in sharing what we should do to complete the project that we forget to consider what we could do as well. As William Shakespeare said, “We know what we are, but we know not what we may be.”

There’s a reason why your favorite and funniest stories have unexpected endings. One of the reasons we speak of “yes AND” so frequently in improv is because in affirming every idea we dwell in possibility. When we say “no” or “I should” we narrow and eliminate alternative ideas all together. So next time you’re working on a team, don’t just focus on getting to the end: Find freedom in the fact that together (contributing to each other’s strengths) you can achieve a much bigger, better and more brilliant ending.

A note from Jen: The first Mashup was born in a car on the way to Whole Foods. And not a NYC car ride – this was a 10 minute conversation en route to picking up snacks for a reception at SECCA. Debbie Randolph was pushing, more than I was, to embody the spirit of improv in our next round of experimenting in museums at the 2015 NAEA conference. I remember having the conversation, getting excited about a great idea, then emailing the others to refining the car plan.

I’ve always had a level of tentativeness with truly incorporating improv into what I’m doing – blame it on years of hearing “improvisers are losers” from a theatre director who RAN an improv theatre. While others may have seen me as risky, I knew I was holding back some of the ‘crazier’ ideas. But over the last three and a half years, I’ve gotten bolder in taking the lead in improv integration within museum pedagogy AND owning my experience and opinions. The Mashup doesn’t belong to that little group of renegades from NAEA. It’s not mine – it doesn’t belong to any one person. We don’t have to be there to train people how to do it or to run it. The idea of experimentation within museums is present within the museum field already. But this celebration of failure/positive risk-taking/off-the-cuff/Yes, And mentality? This is improv. This is what, through The Engaging Educator, we are teaching and embodying – and have been for three and a half years, and will for many, many more. And here’s my experiment, embracing it all and running with those ‘crazy’ ideas that don’t seem so crazy once they get rolling.

So, moving forward we’re stewarding #MuseumMashup. This page is a place where we’ll promote, help organize, host resources, reflections, photos and information – it’s also where you can find organizers near you, and get involved in our next adventure this late summer/early fall – the Worldwide #MuseumMashup. That being said, welcome and do Yes, And the fun!

A note from Shaelyn: On the first Nationwide Museum Mashup Day, events were organized at 6 museums across the country. Museum educators, enthusiasts, and the public were invited to visit a site near them or follow along online with the hashtag #MuseumMashup. Between 10 am and 8 pm EST, there was only one half hour period when no group of museum enthusiasts was holding a Museum Mashup!

The hashtag generated nearly 800 tweets, with 300 original tweets and 400 retweets. Messages sent on twitter about the event appeared in timelines 800,000 times for as many as 3 million views. The hashtag reached #1 among trending hashtags in the United States in the evening. Whether participating online or in person, the first Nationwide Museum Mashup Day provided a wonderful opportunity for people to share the experience of looking at museums in new ways.

I like to think of teaching as translation.
Yes, it’s also about sharing skills, and the giving of perhaps new information.
But the most important part of teaching to me is the translation: how can I take what I know, and translate it into a language you can understand?

To be successful at this, you have to be a good listener. Not just an ears listener, but an observer of the entirety of a person. What is this person responding to? What does their body language tell me? What kinds of words are they choosing to explain themself? What makes their eyes light up?

In my work with young students with autism, the translation element to teaching was highlighted in bold. I learned to intuitively understand how many words a student could process at a time. I changed the way I spoke and explained ideas so that knowledge was accessible. I was mindful of cadence and emotion attached to words, precise gesticulation and clear body language, and the changing of energies and activities within the classroom to keep all students engaged in learning.

Through teaching Improv, Presentation Skills and Storytelling with EE over the past 6 (!) months I’ve learned: it’s exactly the same with neuro-typical adults.

We all need a translation. Each group I’ve taught has been different, and I’ve tried my best to access and fulfill their needs. I love asking and listening to students explain why they signed up for the class, and what they expect to get out of it. It helps me tailor both the content of our time together, and the tone.

It’s been incredible to get to know and improv(e) with so many people through EE. One of my favorites moments in any class is the huge smile on everyone’s face as we pass the clap in a circle – adults! Clapping hands in a circle! The simplest thing you could think of, but beautifully difficult to make eye contact, establish non- verbal communication, and leave one’s self receptive to change at any moment. I love looking around the circle and seeing the playful grins and hands ready with anticipation. I try to offer pointers to make the exercise the most worthwhile based upon my translation of the group’s interpretation. Sometimes they need to speed up, and stop trying to be perfect and too nice; sometimes they need to slow down, loosen their bodies and enjoy the failures.

When we talk about “Yes, And”, I like to open up the discussion to the many translations of the phrase. Sure, we can take it literally, but what other words can we use to better understand the concept? What does it look like? What does it sound like? How can it benefit us? I offer up my ideas of the way the concept makes the most sense to me, but encourage students to find their own personal translation. In addition to practice, I recommend reading articles, discussion, and taking classes with more than one instructor to take in the material and re-appropriate it in the way that best suits your own self.

Translation can often be verbal, but effective teaching is done through modeling; the embodiment of the idea. Instead of simply explaining, the best teachers are.
In EE classes, this means making myself open to failure and publically embracing it, pointing out my own habits, and sharing examples of how I’ve reflected on the practices in my own life. In doing this I hope both to serve as an example of how to move through the class but also how to apply the practice to everyday life and share with others.

Translation is the space between: the communication connection of people sharing experiences and learning from them. Improv helps us to be active listeners and honest responders, and improves both teaching and learning.